


chromaticataclysm

by iamalekza



Category: Cyberpunk 2077 (Video Game)
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/F, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Spoilers, Street Kid V (Cyberpunk 2077), Swearing, Written Playthrough
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-15
Updated: 2021-01-15
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:02:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28185825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iamalekza/pseuds/iamalekza
Summary: After a disastrous trip to Atlanta, V returns to Night City in the hopes of finding something to do that won't turn into a complete and utter shit-show. Except... of course it does.
Relationships: Judy Alvarez/Female V
Comments: 6
Kudos: 98





	1. this street kid, pt. 1

"A little… anesthesia."

V grunts at Pepe's offer, braving a look at the mirror at the end of the bar and feeling her lips curl in dissatisfaction at the sight that greets her. The bridge of her nose is lopsided, pushed uncomfortably to one side, and a bruise is starting to bloom on the skin there—but hey, they really _should_ see the other guy. She'd left the motherfucker in a corpo parking lot. Didn't even have any scratch to spare for the trouble, but the sight of him sobbing thickly past a bloodied mouth had been satisfying.

Still, shit fucking luck she's had, though.

With a deep breath, taken to calm the irritated prickling underneath her skin, V raises her hands, sets them on either side of her nose, and shoves. 

The bone snaps back into place with a painful _crack_. 

"Ugh, motherfucker," she curses, quickly throwing the shot back to help wash away the pounding ache. 

"Everything chill, _hermana_?" 

"Some bastard tried to mug me," V answers, wiping the back of her fist across her mouth before sliding the empty glass back to Pepe. The bitter taste of what's likely just gasoline lingering on her tongue tastes better than blood, at least. "I handled it." 

"Who, local guy?" 

V scoffs.

"You really think somebody local'd try to mug _me_ , Pepe?" 

The answer she offers him is sharper than she intended, and when she sees the questioning look in her friend's eyes, she finally lets her shoulders sag lower, releasing the tenseness building in her muscles. Curse him and his stupid fucking puppy eyes.

"Just some out-of-town gonk thinking he could make a quick enny," V relents, propping an elbow on the surface of the bar and cradling her jaw in her open palm, watching the sparse crowd of El Coyote Cojo with thinly-veiled boredom. "Curb-stomped the dorphhead to next week. 'Least he's alive. Can't say the same for his choom, though."

"Sure taught 'em, didn' ya?" Pepe raises her a glass, takes a swig of his own, and then the bottle disappears back behind the counter.

"I don't get it. Do I honestly look like I have the scratch to spare?" She motions to the top she's wearing, a T-shirt torn to hell and back. Once upon a time, it had been a perfectly normal shirt, full-length and shit, but she had since ripped the bottom off. She hadn't been able to get the bloodstains out from a skirmish with MaxTac in Atlanta, and the collar has since frayed, riddled with worn holes that could at least be passed off as grunge, thankfully.

Yeah, she looks grunge—or ennyless.

"Desperate times, V. Desperate times..." Pepe's voice quickly turns sour, face crumpling into something resembling worry, and V takes it as her cue to turn serious, waiting quietly as he seems to gather his resolve. "Listen V… I got a problem. Serious this time."

V watches as he leans closer, hands clenched together. 

"Found yourself in a hole, sounds like. You need help?" 

"Ah, knew I could count on you."

It's funny, that. V likes to gloat that she has ties to no one but the inked skin on her back, but it's a _blatant_ lie and they both know it. V would drop whatever she has for the people in her life—because they're the only people she has left, truly, and she'd rather they not leave her. If it means busting her ass off to do a few favors, so be it. 

"It's, uh, Kirk…" 

Okay, _maybe_ she can decline this one. 

"I owe him," Pepe continues. "Don't pay by tomorrow, said he'd bust my legs, an' he don't joke about that stuff. Got cartels in his corner."

V can already feel a migraine beginning to form behind her eyes. She blinks for a second, trying to determine whether she's heard it right or if Pepe had instead been referring to Kurt—which is bullshit, because neither of them know a Kurt.

"You in it with _Kirk_?" He winces at the disbelief in her voice. Hell, she's even bordering on a scoff. "Every man, woman, and rat in Heywood knows he's a fucking shark!" 

"My bro jumped the joint, deserved a hero's welcome… I know I fuck up, V."

 _Big time_ , she wants to say, _you fucked up big time and now I'm getting dragged into it like a shmuck_. 

"Ugh," she groans, already beginning to get to her feet, because of course she does. She has the very irritating habit of being too helpful for her own good—exactly like a shmuck. "You ever gonna get wise, Pepe? 'Least tell me your brother's doing alright."

"Ah, doing his thing, you know…" She wonders if she should know what that means, but she doesn't bother asking. "So, can you help?" 

"I'll talk to Kirk," V answers with a resigned sigh. "But then you're gonna owe me one."

"And you're saving my life, V," she hears Pepe call out when she's started walking away. Instead of answering, she offers him a wave without turning around—less of a farewell and more of an acknowledgement.

He knows she won't collect. If she did, she'd be filthy rich, but V continues to scrape the bottom of the barrel.

Motherfucking morals. 

V proceeds to the second floor of the neon-laden pub, twisting around to the booths and finding the bastard in question, nursing a cigarette and pouring through a magazine. His goon, Big Joe, is barely five feet away, scarfing down a burger, and V wonders for the umpteenth time why she's doing what she does. 

"Hey Kirk, wanna talk."

"V. Been a while. Spin it—whatcha need?"

When he motions for her to sit opposite of him, V slides into the booth. "Pepe asked me to talk you up," she starts, only to come to an irritated halt as his goon plops down in the seat beside her. 

"What, he too shy to hand over the eddies hisself? Ah, tell him I don't bite. Not yet." V barely hears Kirk's comment, too busy eyeing Big Joe as he pulls out a gun and sets it on the table in front of him. V's versed enough to know that it's a warning, and she should really just ignore it, but… 

"Hell's your problem?" 

Big Joe just rolls his eyes and continues on with his meal, and V wonders what he'd do if she can get him to try eating lead. 

_Calm down, V. For Pepe._

She turns back to Kirk. Oddly enough, Kirk is worse than Big Joe, in her honest opinion. The goon's just hired muscle—Kirk, on the other hand, is on a bastard league of his own.

"What's he owe you?" 

"Afraid that's client confidentiality. Call it a lot and leave it at that."

He barely looks at her, and she wonders whether she can turn his face into an ashtray and set it on Pepe's bar. That'd be payment enough, wouldn't it? Pepe would worship her like a god.

"A credshark with business ethics," V drawls, entirely sardonic, tapping her blunt nails against the surface of the sticky table. "Sounds too good to be true."

"Well, Merry Fuckin' Christmas."

Maybe if she can bash his head in, she can make a nice Kirk Bowl. She'd have Pepe serve up all her free shots in his skull. "Cut him some slack, will ya? He'll pay—just needs some more time." 

"Do I look like a priest that runs a charity to you?" He flicks the butt of his cigarette, lets the ash fall to the floor. _What an asshole_. "You borrow eddies, you gotta pay them back—with interest. It's common fuckin' knowledge. You suggestin' I let a flaky cunt who can't keep a deal off the hook?" 

"No, you let him off because it's me askin'."

"Hah! You know me—I'm a man of the biz." _Just a quick little bullet to the groin, please_. "So I need to know what I get out of it." 

Unlike V, whose morals afford her good friends and a piss-poor living condition, Kirk doesn't take payment in the form of friendship and free beer for life.

Good thing V knows that favors are just as common a mode of payment as eddies. 

"Transactions go two ways, I get that. I'll owe you a favor." 

"Tempting." V scrunches up her nose when Kirk blows smoke at her face. How long has it been since she quit? Two years? _Everyone_ in Heywood knows this—Kirk's just being an asshole, as usual. "Got a nova idea already."

He sets his magazine down and flips it around, sliding it across the table until V can see the advertisement he's been eyeing on the page. 

"What's this?" 

"Grab a look."

"Mhm..?" V picks the magazine up, eyeing the spread: an Aerondight, the rich man's favourite mode of overcompensating for empty lives, loveless marriages, and a personality as dry as the Badlands.

"Preem ride there on the page. Only four of 'em in NC as of now. One, Rayfield regional director. Two, Mayor Rhyne. Three, a rental service—" 

"Uh-huh," V interrupts. "And four?" 

"Number four'll belong to my client—just as soon as you klep it for me, that is."

Of course it's a fucking klep job. _Is it too much to ask for, say, a car wash instead?_

V sighs, sets the magazine down. "I do this, and Pepe's debt is squared?" 

"Course! I'm a man o' my word, you know that." No, she doesn't. She hasn't made any dealings with him, thank fuck for her somewhat better judgement, but his reputation is far from pristine. "Whole thing's simple: you swipe the Rayfield for me, I clear Pepe's account. Even toss in a cut for you I'm such a nice guy."

He throws the cigarette across the hall when he's finished with it. Has no one ever taught him to use an ashtray? There's one in every damn building in Night City, even more littering the streets. 

"My man Rick works a parking structure by Embers, club where our Rayfield driver likes to kick it. There every Friday night like clockwork. Soon as you appear, security cams shut down, gate swings up—the road is yours. Just gotta grab the Rayfield and roll out. Simple."

"Who's the owner?" 

"Just an Arasaka suit from across the water. Spews cash outta every hole in his body."

Of course, it _has_ to be from one of the biggest fucking corps in town. "And his name?" 

"How would I know?" Kirk leans forward, and V's tempted to slam his head against the table. The NCPD will come, sure, but she's certain half of Heywood would thank her for her service. "Why would I care? It's a hot item and I know where to find it." 

"Plan sounds shaky as fuck." 

"Oh? How so?" 

"Sounds like you're lookin' for a sucker." A sucker named V, for example. 

"This ain't no setup, V. Heard you got a good head. Maybe we help each other make a few eddies."

"How am I supposed to do this? Expect me to slide under the chassis on a skateboard for a quick hotwire, fast an' easy?" Which she's done before, but for vehicles that _don't_ cost six-figure eddies. Fuck, they were worth maybe four-figures, max. "Kirk, wheels like this got security systems. Good ones—"

He raises a finger to stop her before reaching into his pocket for something. Maybe it's a gun. Maybe he can just shoot her instead of Pepe; it would be faster and more preferable than having to listen to his half-baked plan. 

"This bitty bop—" he starts, placing a device on the table. It's no gun, but maybe she can hit herself in the head with it to save her sanity. "—works like the key Rayfield techs use for repair. Opens locks, bypasses identity authorization."

"A skeleton key for all Rayfields in the city." Honestly, what has he been taking? "Agh, come on, Kirk, even you don't buy that."

"Kabuki's tech wizards sell more magical shit than this under the counter. Have a little faith." Big Joe smacks his lips beside her, finishing up on his meal, and the sound tests V's patience even further. Her fingers curl around the edge of the table because, _fuck_ , if she doesn't, she might just start a fight. She'd love to, of course, but not when it runs the risk of putting Pepe in the crosshairs. "So… we all agreed then?" 

_Fuck. Me. Dead._

V takes the device and stands up, sighing loudly. "We are." 

"Glad to hear it. Always said you were a bright bulb." _Just one cheap shot, please._ "Head to Embers, in the Glen. Rick's in the garage, be waitin' for ya. You two'll hit it off."

V shoulders Big Joe out of the way.

"Good luck out there. We'll be in touch," Kirk calls out, but she ignores him, if only to keep herself from flipping him off, or worse—riddling him with bullets. 

She makes her way back to down to the bar, knocking on the counter to catch Pepe's attention.

"So how's it gonna be, V?" 

"Kirk's lettin' it go, leavin' you be. I'm not, though—you fuckin' owe me big." 

V wonders whether she should start charging for her good fucking deeds, but when Pepe offers her a grateful bow, she decides she simply can't help but let it slide. "V, you savin' my life. I mean that."

"Yeah, well, you better add free food to my 'free drinks for life' card, ya hear," she finally says, giving him a proper wave farewell before walking out of El Coyote Cojo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aha so i've been sucked into cyberpunk 2077 and all of its messy, buggy galore. judy alvarez, especially.
> 
> right-o, so! this will be closely following the second playthrough i'm doing of the game, and anything that happens there will be translated here. HOWEVER, this fic will not be exclusive to canon occurrences. i'm taking a lot of creative liberties. there will be tons of other things happening, including meeting new characters, forming deeper connections, and what have you.
> 
> this is gonna be a very big project since i plan on completing it like i do the game, maybe i'll even include all the side-gigs and whatnot, but with my own spin—aka, lots more calls, bringing friends along for the ride, because it sounds lonely hitting up all the gigs by one's self. my v would definitely want someone to run a live commentary with while she's popping heads. 
> 
> p.s. yes, i romanced judy for my first playthrough, too. sue me.
> 
> p.p.s. this is... a mess. like, a massive mess. idk what my writing style is, so i just type whatever i can wring out of my single sorry brain cell.


	2. the street kid, pt. 2

V makes her way down the side-alley and towards the back of the block, expecting full-well to walk all the damn way to Embers just to get the half-baked job done. What she doesn't anticipate, however, is Padre himself standing behind an idling vehicle with its trunk popped open, his phone pressed against his ear. She slows to a stop when they notice her presence, offering Padre a wave in greeting.

"Well, who do we have here." Padre brings his phone down and pockets it, approaching. "V... long time. Didn't know you were around."

"Sebastian Ibarra—haven't changed a smidge," V greets with a coy salute. It makes him smile, at least, which is the most she could ever fucking hope for in this god-forsaken city.

"No one calls me by my name anymore. Almost forgotten how it sounds."

V tries not to look too smug at the privilege. 

"How're things, Padre?"

"The same, Heywood—nothing ever changes here. I'd rather hear about you."

Her eyes stray to the trunk just before it's closed, catching sight of the body strewn inside it. "No place like home," she comments idly, hardly surprised. "Got back from Atlanta a few weeks ago."

"See you got a good down-home welcome. How was it back east?"

"Tell ya later, got somethin' on my plate—"

"How about you fill me in now? We'll give you a ride. Marcus, let's go." 

V ponders the offer for a second before shrugging, figuring hitching a ride with a familiar face is leagues better than walking like a chump with not even a gun to her name. She'd be mugged, _again_ , and she really doesn't want to have to deal with a broken nose a second time, so she follows Padre into the back of his car, nodding gratefully as Marcus holds the door open.

As soon as she's settled in her seat, Padre turns to her and offers a slight nod. "So where to?"

"The Glen. Drop me off at Embers."

"Front door?"

"Take the ramp back of the bar. Show you where to stop."

"You heard her, Marcus." As the car pulls away from the curb, V can't stop her knee from jumping anxiously. Padre's seen her grow up from a squirt to a merc, but that doesn't mean she trusts him with her life, even if she did use to refer to him as Uncle Sebastian. Quite the opposite, in fact; it's _because_ she knows him so much that she knows better than to trust him. "Your return to NC has been good? Busy already?"

"Two years gone by, not much has changed."

"You know Heywood. It has strong roots, ever watered by the same blood." She makes an agreeing grunt. Heywood is a stagnant in the ever-changing chasm of sin that is Night City, and she's equal parts impressed and terrified. On one hand, Heywood is still the same; on the other, Heywood is _still_ the same. "Now, tell me about you."

"Aw, pick up somethin' here and there. Nothin' major." She looks out the window, eyeing the passing storefronts. "But I'm gettin' by. 'Preciate the concern."

"So... Atlanta didn't turn out like you expected, huh?"

V winces at the reminder. "As you can see, I'm back. If it'd been better there, wouldn'ta left."

"Maybe it'll all work out for the best..."

Unlikely, given Night City's reputation. Still, she offers nothing, instead electing to continue watching the streets until—

"Shit," Marcus hisses, and she turns to Padre's side of the car. Beyond the tinted windows, a vehicle pulls up beside them, matching their speed. A drive-by, maybe? Of course, she'd be so fucking lucky.

"Stop the car," Padre advises, motioning to the sidewalk.

"What's goin' on?" V's fingers burying into the material of her jeans.

"Business. You carryin'?"

The car finally pulls to a stop, and V watches with barely-hidden disdain as the other vehicle halts in front of theirs. A man steps out of the cabin, walking over to V's side of the vehicle—she recognizes the garb as 6th Street, but she draws a blank at the name of whoever's wearing them.

"Sebastian Ibarra," the 6th Street soldier greets, leaning against the open window to V's right. V stares straight through the windshield, her shoulders sagging at the realization that, yep, she's home, alright. Sweet, fucked-up Night City. "Looks like it's my lucky day."

"What do you want?" Padre sounds about as done with the situation as she is.

"To settle our biz. Once and for all." V finally turns to face the soldier, glaring holes into the metallic panel decorating the top of his head. "Got an offer for ya, Paddy, so listen up. Get the _fuck_ outta Vista, pull your boys off the street. I'll give ya the Glen, done deal. No more restless nights. See how generous I can be?"

"One more _fuckin'_ word," V warns, shoving a finger at the soldier's face in warning. His red eyes quickly sweep over to her, and she matches his glare with one of her own, face curled into a cold snarl.

"Stay outta this. I don't know you."

"And I don't know _you_ , which means you're worth shit around here and capable of even less." His eyes narrow, but V keeps her game-face on, shoving her chin upward and daring him to try anything else. "Well? Anything else?"

He says nothing.

"It seems our conversation has come to a close," Padre says from behind her. The soldier tears his glare away, and V considers it a spiteful victory.

"Careful, Padre," the soldier warns as he straightens up. "Never know who's got a barrel at your six. You _neither_ , shitbucket."

"Oh, _cry_ me a river, tin man," V mocks, feeling devilishly gleeful as Marcus begins to pull away from the encounter. It isn't until they're two blocks away that V finally relaxes back into her seat, barely realizing she'd gone tense in the first place. Perhaps she should stop picking fights until she's picked up a weapon, but...

"I'm pleased to see you have not forgotten your roots, still have the gift," Padre says, turning to appraise her. "So many of the little shits left around here... their spines go soft when they look down a barrel."

"Who was that?" Because V hadn't been lying when she said she didn't know the fucker. Even now, minutes after baring her neck out for Padre, she's still drawing blanks on a name, and that's saying a lot considering her knowledge of Night City's biggest, baddest bastards.

"No one important." No one V should bother learning about, then. "He'll be gone in a week's time, another will come in his place."

"He pulled iron on you!"

"He did. And he will pay for doing so." V watches as Padre looks out of the window, growing pensive.

They arrive shortly after, V directing Marcus to pull up at an off-ramp and cracking her knuckles once the car rolls to a stop.

"Here, before you go," Padre says, and V notices the card held tightly in his hand. She reaches over to pluck it from his grasp, turning the card this way and that and noting the design. Heywood-born and bred, alright.

"Your number?"

"Could be useful. Maybe we can also work together again—take ourselves back two years ago."

"Thanks, Padre," V offers, slipping the card into her pocket and offering him a smile. For a fleeting second, there's no V, and there's no Padre—just a little girl and her uncle cackling in the backseat of his car. Hunter will knock on the window and tell them both that mom's inside, that dinner's waiting, and that she expects Sebastian to stop by and dine with them. She will laugh and race them both to the dining room, squealing with delight as Sebastian sits at the head of the table and spins them a tale of two legendary solos from Heywood: Hustler and Velocity. She and Hunter will fall asleep on the dining table, and Sebastian will carry them to their bedrooms and tuck them in.

But the knock never comes.

Because Hunter is dead.

From the sombre look in Padre's eyes, he knows exactly where her mind has gone.

"Gotta go," she murmurs, clearing her throat to ease the lump that has formed at its base and finally stepping out of the vehicle.

"So go with god," Padre provides before the door slams shut. V refuses to turn around, simply mantles the ramp railing and drops down on top of a garbage bin, feeling the plastic bend beneath her to soften her blow. She hops down the last foot or so until her sneakers hit the pavement before proceeding to the garage.


	3. the street kid, pt. 3

V takes a deep breath as the elevator descends to the Parking level.

Less than a couple of days back in Night City, and she's already found herself in a pickle. On one hand, she isn't the type to leave a friend hanging; on the other, she doesn't believe for a _second_ that Kirk's device will unlock the Aerondight. It's a stupid plan, a _very_ stupid plan, but she can't just back out—not when Pepe's life is at stake. If she calls the deal off, Pepe will bear the brunt of Kirk's retaliation. His family, too. V may be a bit of an asshole most days, but she isn't heartless... despite wishing, sometimes, that she is. 

If only to keep herself from doing the dumbest gigs that will likely get her flatlined before she can even blink—

The merc nearly jumps at the sound of an incoming call. When the notification pops up in her view, a scowl immediately spreads on her face at the identity of her mystery caller: Kirk Sawyer. Slimeball couldn't even leave her to do her fucking job in peace.

V answers the call remotely, throwing up the holo viewer to her ocular HUD. The new soft installed in her cyberware maps her facial features in real-time, giving Kirk the same display she has of him: a small, persistent box in the corner of their vision. This _also_ means he can see the very telling frown on her face, but he barrels on as if he doesn't. Or he doesn't bother caring. 

"V, status?" His voice is slightly warped through the comms.

"On location. 'Bout to find your man."

"Rick's one of the good guys, you'll see," he reassures as she rounds a corner, slipping past closed doorways and keeping her footfalls slow and light. "I trust 'im like a brother."

"Yeah, so you said." If Kirk trusts Rick, she thinks she'll be better off not trusting either of them. Kirk is, after all, the least reliable wannabe-fixer loanshark in Heywood.

When she enters the Parking lot, the lights flicker on overhead. V winces, rubbing at her eyes momentarily before proceeding further inside, sighing in relief when Kirk's live feed minimizes into something less obstructive. Still, though; even just his name in the corner of her vision is irritating enough.

Deeper into the lot, she finds only a single person occupying a booth, peering at her curiously from behind the counter.

"Yeah? Someth'n I can help you with?"

"You Rick?"

"Yup. You with Kirk?" When she nods, Rick seems to fiddle with something on the consoles, humming a quiet tune to himself before turning back to her with a blank look. "Cameras're blind. You got twenty minutes."

She proceeds around the lot, looking for the distinct, sleek build of the Aerondight and finding it parked neatly in a lot labelled in big, blue neon: VIP. "Why am I not surprised?" She steps closer, then scowls when Kirk's feed pops up again. "Kirk, I see the ride."

"Your moment to shine, kiddo," he says, and a nerve jump in V's jaw. "Good luck."

Once she's right by the door, V pulls out the device from her pocket and hits the button at the side. "Let's take this piece of wondertech for a whirl." The lights on the box blink as it processes the request.

"You're a woman of little faith." As if to further prove his point, the door to the Rayfield finally slides open, beckoning V inside. "See? We're rich."

_Fuck, can't believe I'm actually startin' to believe this weasel._

"Now fire 'er up and call me when you're underway. Tell you where to go." With that, Kirk finally ends the call, his holo viewer completely disappearing. With a relieved sigh tinged with just the slightest disbelief, V finally slides into the driver's seat, placing the device on the information panel behind the steering wheel and settling in.

"Hm... Looks like this'll be a cool breeze—" She stops, eyeing the crimson warning sign displayed on the dimmed CrystalDome windshield and feeling her heart drop into the depths of her gut. By the time her surroundings are displayed on the viewing panels, there's a figure walking up to her side of the car and opening the door, greeting her with a gun to the head.

"Get the fuck out."

"What the—"

"Get-the-fuck-out."

"Okay, easy," she starts, throwing her hands up, palms facing the other merc.

"Nothin' personal, _compa_. Just biz." He still has the barrel pointed at her head. "Rayfield's mine."

"What, man, never heard of thieves' honor? Finders keepers. I was first."

"Listen, only one of two ways to do this—friendly or fucked up." V's eyes narrow. No talking sense to him, then. "Either way, the ending's the same. I'm takin' the car."

He reaches forward to try to haul her outside, but the sound of screeching wheels cause them both to pull apart, looking wide-eyed at the approaching headlights.

"¿¡ _Qué chingados.._?!"

The cars swerve to a stop, headlights bearing down on the pair. "NCPD! Drop your weapons!" The order booms from the speakers mounted alongside the sirens. As the armed cops dismount and shout commands, V finds herself wondering how the everloving _fuck_ she's supposed to get out of _this_ mess, and whether she can have Pepe pay her bail.

He probably wouldn't unless he's held at gunpoint. She might have to buy Pepe a copy of _A Gonk's Guide to Threatening Fixers_.

V's pulled to the ground and held down—the other guy, too.

"Jackie Welles, my old pal from the 'hood. See you haven't grown an ounce wiser."

Two things:

One, V can't see who the _fuck_ is talking, because the headlights are in her eyes and the lingering exhaust is thick enough to obscure the speaker.

Two, Jackie Welles? _The_ Jackie Welles? 

Jesus Christ.

"Hey, _argh..._ Detective Stints! Been a while, huh?"

V tries to turn and look at Jackie, but the cop presses down on her arm, digging deep into her muscles, and she bites back a pained groan.

"Inspector Stints," the stranger corrects, close enough now that she can see his face from her position half-kissing the floor.

"Same thing."

Stints leans down to pick up Jackie's discarded gun, marvelling at the weapon before letting his eyes stray to V. She throws her chin up, or as much as her current position lets her, to regain some semblance of defiant dignity. "Speakin' of... your mug's familiar, too."

"Yeah?" V flashes him the largest shit-eating grin she can muster. "Yours ain't to me."

"Left for Atlanta, lookin' for a slice of happiness—" V feels her entire body go _frigid_. "—guess you didn't find it."

She tries to pull at her arm, but the cop holds her firm.

"I've always maintained it's the same for all you termites in Heywood," Stints continues, crouching down to look her in the eye critically. "Born here, live here, die here. Looks like I was right."

Her fingers itch for the trigger, but she isn't armed. Instead, she hisses out, "Enough of the chatter. What now?"

"Gettin' booked, gonna do a stint. Heh—get it?"

Oh, how she'd _love_ to rip the glowing eyes from his skull.

"Hey, c'mon, Stints, huh? You lock us up, we'll just jerk off till trial, and then what?" V manages to move her head enough to see the other merc. Jackie's fairing a little worse, cheek pressed against the cold rubber floor, but he carries the same scrawled smile on his face. "Worst case, _agh_ , we get some months. Hell, standin' room only nowadays in _el bote_ , so... we'll prob'ly be out early."

"Are these the thieves?"

A new voice pops up. From the tone of his voice, it could only be the gonk who dared to bring a fucking _Aerondight_ to Heywood.

"Ordinary street trash," the voice comments as he floats into view. _Rich fuckin' corpo_.

"Fuck, he's here," she hears Stints murmur, shaking his head only subtly as he rises to his feet. "Got 'em in custody, Mr. Fujioka. We'll be takin' em now."

"It's a waste of effort. I have no time to testify or play at an investigation."

"Suggestin' we let 'em go, sir?"

 _Oh, you poor cop,_ V thinks, turning around to press her forehead against the floor with a resigned sigh. _You innocent pig. The only thing you'll be letting go is corpses._

"I suggest you toss them in the sea. Cuffed legs broken so this trash doesn't float."

 _Called_ _it_.

V hears the corpo's footsteps recede, followed shortly by what she assumes are his bodyguards. She can only look up at the cop with a blank look, entirely too tired to be bothered by the threat on her life. _Pepe, if I get out of this alive, you're gonna owe me your retirement fee._

"You heard 'im," Stints says, waving a hand at his cops.

Jackie lets out a cold laugh. " _Heh,_ fuuuuck..."

Rolled unceremoniously onto her back, the last thing V sees are the shock batons.

* * *

"Motherfucker..."

When she sets the bridge of her nose again, the sickening crack it makes is accompanied by a pained yelp, too tired to care about keeping up appearances. She pinches the pulsing bridge of her nose with two fingers, rubbing gently, although it does nothing to alleviate the pain. 

"Honestly, for a sec there, things looked iffy," Jackie admits. She turns around to where he's sitting, barely five feet from her and looking remarkably fine for someone who all but ate a shock baton. What's a little bleeding from the nose in Night City, anyway? "Wasn't sure we'd worm outta that alive."

"Man, same. Stints is out to get people, wound tight. Though, he does have a little honor left," V offers with a shrug of one shoulder—a shrug that reminds her of the deep, tired aching in her muscles and causes her to groan in displeasure.

"Really think his sense of honor saved us?" 

"Well... and the fact he's Heywood-born and bred like us."

Jackie shakes his head. "If I hadn't come, you'd be cruising Night City in sexy wheels by now."

"Nah," V butts in with a dry laugh. "It was all my fault."

"Wait, what?"

He's also Heywood-born and bred, alright. The admission seems to send him into a new state of shock that she starts to wonder what to do if he collapses on the spot. 

"Pigs didn't waddle in outta nowhere. My tech musta triggered the alarm." And by her tech, she clearly means Kirk's tech. 

Jackie gives her a look. "So, maybe now, as God ordained. Jackie Welles."

"V."

He raises a hand, she assumes to shake hers with, but he quickly points at her and murmurs, "I know you... You hang at the Coyote."

"Got the job to steal those wheels at the Coyote. From Kirk."

"You _work_ with that sewer slug?" 

V can't help but snort indignantly as she shakes her head. "Pepe owes him big and can't afford to pay, so I stepped up."

Jackie turns away and lets out a sigh. "Man, gotta wonder about Pepe, lettin' slimy Kirk boss him around like that."

"Heard what they say—he's backed by cartels."

"Cartels? No, no, listen. I know those cartel types, and I guarantee you none of 'em have even heard of Kirk. _El cabrón's_ gotta learn... he don't do people in Heywood dirty." Finally, Jackie gets up on his feet, slipping his thumbs into the pockets of his jeans, and V assumes he's leaving—until he turns around to face her again. "C'mon, let's go have some lunch."

"Lunch?"

Jackie laughs. "You would not believe my my mama's chili—best in town."

He's offering to have lunch with her... and with his mom. Mama Welles. Anybody who's anybody in the Coyote, or even in the entirety of fucking Heywood, knows Mama Welles. 

"Gettin' one of my good feelings," Jackie continues, idly shuffling on his feet as he waits for her response.

"'Bout what?" 

"'Bout us. Sense a kind of chemistry, y'know?" The way V's cheeks hurt from the smile plastered on her face finally overpowers the persistent ache of her bruised nose. "C'mon, I'm fuckin' starved."

"Okay," V relents, slowly rising to her feet. "Food it is. Let's go."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trust me when i say i'm trying to get to when v meets judy as quickly as possible ✊😤
> 
> but also, reaching lizzie's bar in general, which is where our first somewhat major deviation appears in the form of a character tailored specifically for this story—and by that, i mean we get introduced to one of the people to start the endless shenanigans v and the gang will get up to in night city.
> 
> because really, v deserves to have a crew 24/7 over the course of the game. found family and shit... but also because THIS v in particular is a bit of a hot mess, she needs people to put her in her place—or at least stop her from diving buck-naked into the fountain on a dare for a single enny. because OF COURSE she would. the idiot.
> 
> anyway, enough rambling. HAPPY HOLIDAYS!


	4. intermission: whispers of october

Evelyn is up to something.

She's sparse on the details, but Judy can tell from the distracted sheen in her eyes, the lightness in her step—hell, even how frequently she smokes. Fifteen a day before, more than twenty now. The once-abandoned ashtray in her studio has become filled with crushed filters and ash, all marked by her friend's lipstick.

Part of her is grateful that Evelyn seems to be keeping her away from the action; the other is, unfortunately, feeling offended. 

It goes on for a while until Judy finally has enough one rough Tuesday morning, running on two hours of sleep before diving back into tuning smut. She takes pride in her work, but some days...

"Ev, stop pacing."

She sees Evelyn look up at her with wild eyes, like she didn't even realize she'd been pacing, and Judy decides that she's finally had enough of the secrecy.

"Look, if you're in trouble at Clouds, you know I'll be happy to help you, right?" 

"No, no," Evelyn answers with a shake of her head. She crushes her finished cigarette into the ashtray before lighting another. "Clouds is fine, no. Am I distracting you from your work?" 

"Kinda, but I'm mostly worried about what's got you smokin' like—well, like you're about to lose your mind if you don't." Judy winces at her own words, throwing her hands up to placate her friend. "Not judging, don't gimme that look. I just haven't seen you this worked up in a while."

"It's just... I can't tell you. Not yet, anyway, but it's going to be big, Judy."

Judy really tries not to be startled when Evelyn surges forward and braces her hands on the opposite end of her desk. 

"And I may need your help, and then you'll know, but right now... right now, I need to..." Evelyn pauses and takes a thoughtful puff of her cigarette. "I need to do a lot of things. Hm. Is Angel here?"

"She comes and goes, why?" 

"I need a ride to Konpeki Plaza," Evelyn answers.

"Don't you already have a ride to Konpeki Plaza?" 

"This is different."

Judy only blinks, patiently waiting for Evelyn to elaborate. 

"This is—don't, don't give me that look, Judy. I know what I'm doing." Sighing, Judy averts her gaze, focusing instead on the data streams processing on her rightmost monitor. "I need someone who can get me in and out without being seen. That's the most I can tell you right now. I can't use my usual mode of transport. It can't be traced back to me."

"So you need a merc who can shuffle you between vehicles, leave less of a trail?" 

"Yes, exactly. The Moxes trust her, don't they?" 

Judy gives another sigh, resigned but already rising to her feet. She polishes off the last of her cold coffee before setting aside the mug. "I'll see if she's around. Stay here. Keep an eye on the render, will you? I need that BD live by tomorrow."

"I will."

With one final look at her frazzled friend, Judy sets off to the main floor of the venue, sliding into a vacant stool in front of Mateo and ordering a drink—any drink, really, as long as it's strong enough to keep the worry from nibbling at her mind.

"Is Angel around?" 

"I think she went out for a smoke with Hound." Mateo pours the mix into an empty glass and slides it to her, humming thoughtfully. "Why? Got a job that needs doing?" 

"Nah, just wanna annoy her while she's here." Judy finishes the shot in one swing before setting off, flashing Mateo a small smile.

She finds the pair at the corner of the parking lot, immersed in conversation and a single smoke held between Angel's fingers. For a second, Judy idles behind them, focusing on anything but what they're saying... but two minutes pass, then four, and Judy soon realizes that they might be too occupied to even notice her presence.

Tentatively, Judy clears her throat, and she tries her best not to look too amused when the two spring apart like they've been electrified.

"Promise I wasn't listening," Judy prefaces with a chuckle, watching as Hound looks at anywhere else _but_ at any of them and Angel ducks her head in a poor attempt of hiding the faint flush coloring her cheeks. "I can come back if you're too busy."

"No!" Angel's voice is entirely too sharp and entirely too loud. It's not often that the merc looks and acts flustered, but whenever she _is_ , it's _obvious_. "No, no, you're good. We're good. All good... uh. Right, yeah, what's up, Judy?"

"Wanna try that intro again?"

Entirely too easy to tease. 

Hound murmurs something strained and incoherrent under her breath before stepping back towards their car, leaving Angel to gather her thoughts with a quick breath and a hand through her blonde hair. "We were just having a—it doesn't matter. I mean, it matters, but—"

“Angel."

"Right! Sorry, it's been a day," Angel answers, almost apologetically. "Wait, I thought I said you can call me by my name."

"Ha, and risk getting strangled by Susie? No thanks. I like my neck staying connected to my shoulders," Judy snorts. "Anyway, you up for a job?" 

"A job?" 

The change happens as quickly as Judy expects it. The Mox's resident merc quickly straightens her shoulders, shedding the shy air in favor of something more—well, more appropriate for her line of work. It never fails to be a little entertaining to watch.

"Yeah, you remember Evelyn? My friend from Clouds?" 

"I remember her," Angel answers with a nod, finishing her cigarette and crushing it under her boot. "What, she needs help cleaning up?"

By cleaning up, Judy knows she means taking care of an unruly client. 

"Fair guess, but no," Judy offers with a shrug of her shoulders, leaning against the railing beside the merc and slipping out a card from the pocket of her overalls—Evelyn's card, to be precise. "She needs someone to get her to and from a certain place without drawing too much attention."

"Ah, gotcha." She watches out of the corner of her eyes as Angel squints down at the print. "This her number?"

"I don't have the whole story, best to ask her tonight."

"I won't tell a soul."

"Know you won't. On to more pressing matters, though..." Judy eyes the idling car on the road, at the redhead pouring through Angel's laptop. "Mind tellin' me what that was?" 

"I—I don't know yet."

Confident Angel is gone in less than a nanosecond. "Mhm?" 

"It's... it's complicated—"

"Talia—"

"Oh, _now_ you pull the name card on me." The merc groans, making a show of rolling her eyes that Judy knows she doesn't necessarily mean. "It's complicated. We work together. I don't wanna make things weird, you know?"

"It's only weird if you make it weird."

"There has to be boundaries—"

"No offense but you've seen each other bleed on the pavement," Judy points out with an arch of her eyebrow, watching as Angel's excuses fluster to a stop. "She's seen you naked!"

"Half of Night City has seen me naked, Judy! It's not like none of my old BDs aren't out there, tucked under someone's morning screamsheet."

"Yeah, and she's still here. A lot of _pendejos_ would've pulled shit by now—"

"It's called professionalism!" 

" _Ay_ , Angel, you're useless," Judy groans, rubbing her palms across her face, half-amused and half-frustrated. "Fine. Whatever. But you owe me if I turn out to be right."

"You'll be the first one to know."

"Yeah, when you inevitably call me at 4:00 AM to scream into my ears." Judy finally lets it go, brushing her shoulder against Angel's before straightening up. "Better get back to Ev. Think about what I said, alright?" 

"Oh, I'm sorry, did you say something?" 

"Gonk." 

They flash each other wide smiles before Judy starts her departure, eager to return to her studio before the patrons start filtering in. 

Judy's barely gotten to the door when a call comes through on her holo, and she throws the view up on her HUD, smirking when she sees Angel, who narrows her eyes at her in return. 

"Now that I'm thinking about what you said, maybe I should set you up with a friend," comes Angel's playful tease, and Judy can't help but snort indignantly in response. 

"Bye, Angel," Judy answers, feinging a glare before ending the call—but not before sharing a quick laugh over comms.

With the matter settled, she returns down to her studio, eyes quickly seeking out the monitor and cursing under her breath to see that the render is still processing. At this rate, it might take the whole day. 

"Well?" Evelyn is sitting in her chair, fingers tucked together neatly. "Did she take the job?" 

"Waitin' on your elaboration tonight, but I doubt she'll pass."

"Thank you, Judy." Evelyn finally stands, allowing Judy to return to het seat. "I'll be in touch, and please—"

"Don't tell anyone you have a job going, I know, I know," Judy finishes with a nod of her head, BD wreath already in her grasp. "Know the drill, Ev. I won't tell a soul."

Evelyn nods, then leaves. 

"This should be interesting," Judy finally murmurs under her breath, staring blankly at the Lizzy Wizzy desk and stamping down the dread nagging at the bottom of her stomach. "I hope you know what you're doing."

With one last sigh, Judy tucks the wreath onto her head, returning to the task at hand. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so i got a little too impatient and decided to write an intermission from judy's pov leading up to the entire shit-show that'll happen soon. sue me.


	5. the rescue, pt. 1

"Chick we're looking for's somewhere in this building. Probably crawlin' with the _pendejos_ that kidnapped her. Eyes and ears open, alright?"

V checks the magazine of her pistol one last time, counting bullets and frowning when she doesn't even get to five. "If I opened my eyes and ears any wider, you'd be rushing me off to the closest ripperdoc."

Her muttered response is welcomed with a loud laugh and a hand on her shoulder, and okay, _fine_ , she has to smile at his easygoing nature. Half a year later and Jackie has become the closest thing to a brother V has ever had since losing her own, and that already says a lot about their bond. She's always been hesitant in forming familial connections with people after losing her own, but _here_ and _now_ , V can't imagine where she'd be without Jackie by her side.

"Now we can get down to biz," Jackie finally says.

"Wakako give you any tips and tricks for the job?" 

" _I'm not your mother. Just do what I pay you for. It's easy work_ ," Jackie mimics, and V doesn't even _try_ to stop the amused snort she makes. "Sh'yeah..."

"Don' let her hear you say that. You'd be walkin' out of Jig-Jig Street with fewer fingers."

"I've walked out of Jig-Jig Street with _less_."

V gives Jackie a nod in acknowledgement, humming to show she remembers exactly when that happened, before sliding the magazine back into her pistol. "Right. Let's do this."

Dusty. Dirty. The parking level is about as desolate as it can get. Most of the parked cars they come across have long since been broken down and left to rust, and she doubts the floor has been swept in decades. The air is thick and heavy with exhaust likely churned from the upper levels, and the atmosphere is entirely too humid for her liking.

She's hardly surprised. Scavs aren't exactly known for their tidiness. If anything, the space alone is indication enough of what they're dealing with.

When they reach the elevator, a call comes in. V quickly accepts it, leaning against the graffiti-laden wall as the holo viewer pops up to reveal T-Bug.

"Target's Sandra Dorsett," T-Bug reiterates. "Her biomon went mute a couple hours back. Suspected abduction. Target could've possibly flatlined already. Not sure you're in time."

"We're in time, Bug— _we_. Sure, you're on 'phones, but... that don't make you any less a part of this squad," Jackie butts in, derailing the brief completely (much to V's mirth).

" _Squad_ ," T-Bug repeats with a scoff. "Charming."

"Bug," V adds with a sweet tone, "Could at least try to be... nice."

"You want nice, supportive? Call a damn helpline." T-Bug's feigned disdain is enough to send V and Jackie sniggering into the back of their palms, but the tense air cools into something easier, which V thinks is exactly what they _all_ need at the face of potential failure. She doesn't even _want_ to think about calling Wakako and telling her that the target has already passed away.

She'd never hear the fucking end of it.

When they reach the right floor, Jackie starts the march down the hallway, V picking up the pace behind him and ushering a resident back into her apartment when she pokes her head out.

"Lookin' for twelve thirty-seven," T-Bug directs. The vague playfulness in her voice has finally given way to something more serious, and V collects her expression in kind. "Target should be inside, but I got zero eyes on her biomon. Fingers crossed it's not too late. Ugh, hate this life or death shit. Hurry."

V makes a sound in agreement.

"Try hacking the door," T-Bug says when they reach the right number. "Think you can trip it on your own, V?"

"Outdated locks? I can trip it in my sleep," V huffs, switching from her regular oculars to her scanner and focusing on the network controlling the door. Different quickhack options hover in the air, visible only to her, and she swipes a quick finger across the Remote Deactivation option. Her outdated cyberdeck lags for two seconds before complying, and the door slides open with a quiet hiss.

V leads the way inside, pouring through the interior and picking up a Bounce Back MK.1 that has been left on the table. The room is empty, but there's a doorway leading further into the complex, and V lowers herself down to a crouch, picking her way across the dusty carpet with Jackie at her heels.

"Are we fuckin' late?! Is that her, is that our target, V?"

Her eyes follow Jackie's, landing on the occupied operating table in the room beyond. Frowning, she makes her way over and scans the body, taking note of the information provided by her deck.

"Sandra Dorsett's protected under echelon II corpo immunity. Our girl's top-shelf. This one's packin' black market Zetatech repros. Typical back-alley fix-ups." Jackie gives her a look, and V sighs. "Not our lucky gal. Let's keep lookin'."

Before proceeding to the closed doorway, V reaches over and closes the woman's eyes.

Death can come in many shapes or forms in Night City, but going down with the Scavs? She wouldn't wish it on her worst enemy. They're heartless, the lot of them. Ready to trade in their own choom for eddies. 

Sickening. 

When V reaches the doorway, Jackie's peeking through a small hole in the wall, and he stops her when she tries to widen the gap. "V, _mira_ , eyes up, _pendejos_ ahead."

V nods in response and drops to a crouch, opening the door just far enough to let her slip through. She stays low, almost pressed against the floor, eyes glued to a Scavenger. Their back is turned to her—the perfect opportunity to strike. Approaching slowly, V keeps her breath held until she's close enough to grab him. With one quick move, she reaches up and twists his head, feeling rather than hearing the satisfying _crack_ of his neck snapping. Before he can hit the ground, she hoists open the cover of the fridge he'd been standing in front of and slips him inside.

"Nice," Jackie whispers when he finally enters the room. "I couldn'ta done that better myself."

They pour through the room quickly, picking up anything they can use that isn't bolted down to the floor, but when they reach the next room—

"On your toes," T-Bug pipes up. "More bodies incoming, they're almost on you."

V quickens her step, sliding into a crouch next to Jackie past the open doorway. She peeks in, finds two Scavs invested in a conversation headed their way, and ducks back out, a deep breath pulling into her lungs.

" _Oye_ , V. They're comin'," Jackie mutters, his pistol raised, but V puts one hand on his and lowers it. She raises two fingers, then four, then points into the room: six Scavs, total, that she'd counted when she slid past. His throat bobs with a swallow, weighing his options, before finally holstering his gun and readying his fists instead.

They stay there, pressed closely against the wall, and watch as two bodies exit and go down the hall leading away from them. V quickly follows in their footsteps, lurking in the shadows of the corridor, eyes glued on both figures. One of the men braces his hands against the sink, eyes glued to the mirror, while the other idles by the door, looking beyond—good thing she hid the first one's body, then.

"Hey, grab the one closest," Jackie says over her shoulder, and she switches routes and creeps up towards the Scav by the doorway. 

They share a look before pouncing.

V steps up and grabs the Scav by the neck, throwing it under her arm and _jerking_ , until the quiet but telling snap reaches her ears. A second one follows, Jackie's target, and they quickly lower the corpses on the floor to avoid any further noise.

"Preem gun," V comments, plucking a revolver from its holster on the Scav's waist and inspecting it under the dull, fluorescent glow of the light overhead. Looks like it packs a punch, if maybe a bit too... yellow. "Always been a revolver gal, myself. Thanks for your contribution, Scav."

They proceed into the larger room, V moving between bodies and snapping their necks before they can even notice she's there. One falls by the doorway, another comes to inspect their suddenly flatlined friend, and V circles around the table and grabs him from behind while he's occupied. Jackie offs the third, a man peering out of the shuttered windows on the far side of the room, and then there's only one.

"Got this," V murmurs under her breath, switching back to her scanner and focusing on the floodlights next to the Scav leader. With a quickhack, the floodlights come on, sending the man reeling, stumbling backwards from the blinding source. V bolts forward and wraps an elbow around the Scav's neck, her foot lashing out to kick at the back of his knee, putting all of her weight behind the pull until he's on the ground. "Dorsett. Corpo rat. Where is she?"

His fist is slamming against her arm, but it's less of a punch and more of a tap.

"This isn't a play-fight, asshole. Where's the fuckin' corpo?"

When it's clear she isn't giving in, he raises his shaky hand and points to the last metal door. 

"Good boy. Now siddown."

She twists his head.

" _Guau, mami._ Flat out doubted we could be that sneaky," Jackie comments, peering over her shoulder at the Scav on the floor. "Well, that's not my favorite way to roll, but... nova anyway."

"Course you wanna go out with a bang," V snorts, slipping a hand into the corpse's pockets and finds... hooch.

_What in the ever-loving fuck?_

She frowns and tosses the bottle to Jackie, who catches it, grimaces back, sets it back on the desk. "Fuck's this man doin' with a glass bottle _in his pocket_."

"Dunno. Scavs, _chica_. When do they ever make sense?"

"Fair point."

"Don't see any movement on the sensors," comes T-Bug's interruption, likely pouring through the network to see if there are any lingering souls in their vicinity. "Looks like you got 'im. You're clear to go."

V and Jackie look at each other, then at the last closed door of the room. With a simultaneous nod, they breach into the remaining bathroom, eyes pouring through the dirty tiles until...

There are bodies in a tub filled with ice.

V thinks she's gonna be _sick_. 

"Jesus fucking Christ." She looks down at the two bodies—one male, one female. Sitting at the edge of the tub, she pulls the woman's body onto her lap and starts the scan, murmuring, "Think I got her. Got our target."

T-Bug's voice piques with interest. "We make it? She alive?" 

"About to find out..."

"V, jack into her biomon. Need to know what we're dealin' with."

"She's in a tub of ice... crammed in with another. Fuck—like slabs of meat!"

"Keep it together, V. If she survives, she won't remember a thing. Tiny scar on the subconscious, that's all."

"Heard people who live through shit like this get panic attacks. 'Thout ever knowin' why..." Her skin prickles, unnerved. Waking up in a tub full of ice with at least _one_ less organ has been a deep-seated fear for the population since the dawn of time."You'll be sippin' a glass of ice-cold water and suddenly your hand's shakin'."

"V..."

"Right, jackin' in." V shakes her head and pulls out the connection cord on her wrist, plugging it into the slot behind the woman's right ear. A Biomonitor Panel pops up in her ocular HUD, confirming her identity. "Sandra Dorsett. NC570442. Trauma Team Platinum."

"Platinum?" Jackie's sudden comment nearly causes V to jump in her seat. " _Shit_ , Trauma shoulda swooped in if she sneezed."

"Guessin' they jammed the transmitter sig," T-Bug offers with thoughtful hum, and V watches as the panel tries to send out an emergency signal, fails, and tries again. "Lookin' at a hacked biomon, firmware reconfig or a neurovirus..."

" _Carajo,_ T-Bug! You ain't seein' this place. This is tubs, ice, hooks, and cleavers."

"Hmm... Scopmuncher's hack, huh. Got an idea. Check her neuroport. Find a shard?"

V moves Dorsett's head to the side, eyes homing in on the occupied socket.

"Yeah, pull it—that'll be what's muting the biomon."

V makes a move for the chip, then stops. "Is that even safe? Can't we just get her outta here?"

"We found her still breathin'. Can't lose her. We need that biomon working, checking for hemorrhages—whatever! Find that shard and yank it!"

"Found the shard. Removing now." V pushes the shard further inside to trigger the eject mechanism. When it comes out, she tosses the shard away and focuses on the biomon, sighing in relief when the MedTech voice floods her hearing. She listens closely, nodding in time with the information, and finally turns to Jackie when it explains the arrival time of an evacuation unit.

"Biomon claims Trauma'll be here in three minutes," she relays. 

" _Ay, pabrecita_. Let's get her off that ice."

"Jack, look sharp, not done yet. Don't know who's out there."

"Locked an' ready, V. Do your thing."

V pulls the body out of the ice. With her arms wrapped around Dorsett's torso, she immediately feels the way her muscles start spasming, turning rigid—"Fuck!"

"She's flatlining!"

"Jackie, airhypo! Fuck, this is bad!"

"Catch, _chica_!"

She catches the airhypo in the air and brings it down square in the center of the corpo's chest, forcing her hand to stop trembling until the cartridge is empty. Almost reluctantly, she wraps a palm around Dorsett's upper arm, breathing faintly until the spasming ceases. "I think... holy shit, it worked."

" _Fuera, chica_. Get her outside!"

With a final, calming breath, V slides her arms under the target's back and legs, climbing back up on her feet and shuffling towards the balcony. Dorsett grows heavier with each passing second, adrenaline slowly fading from her system, but she keeps her face steady and neutral until Trauma's hoverbus parks near the open ledge of the balcony. They march outside, securing the proximity, weapons drawn—oftentimes, V can't believe that there had been a time in history where medical workers weren't armed to the teeth.

"Place the patient on the ground," one of them orders. The red holotapes are thrown up, the mat placed on the ground. V kneels down to secure the target on it, but as soon as most of Dorsett's weight has left her, some shitface shoves her back— _hard_ —and she has to scramble just to catch her weight. 

V steps back into the open doorway, watching keenly until Trauma has carried Dorsett to the bus, and she only looks away as soon as they've left her line of sight.

"Let's get outta here," Jackie offers, placing a hand on her shoulder and squeezing lightly. "Elevator gets us to the garage direct."

"Good work. Shitshow's over," T-Bug says over the holocall. "Cuttin' my wires now. See ya in the near future."

The call comes to a close, T-Bug's name disappearing from her HUD. It's only then that V finally lets herself breathe, the air pulling sharply into her lungs before being expelled through a relieved sigh. 


	6. the rescue, pt. 2

"Listen, _chica_ , I got this thing. Mind if I borrow your wheels?"

V looks up from the small crate she's just taken three rolls of eurodollars from, eyes falling into a suspicious squint as she eyes her friend idling by the door. Whatever confidence he'd possessed during their excursion seems to have deflated into something nervous, and V would poke fun at it if she isn't still a little shaken by the state Dorsett had been in when they found her.

"Huh?"

"I got a date with Misty, but... heh, I can't take the metro! How's that gonna look for me?"

V lets out a small 'ah' in understanding, dusting the knees of her pants when she gets back up onto her feet and follows him out the door. "Won't leave you hangin', Jack. But don't get used to it."

"Savin' my ass, V, thank you. How about I drive you home, eh?"

Any other time, she would have been offended by the notion that she isn't well enough to drive her own damn ass back home, but... V looks at the doorway they've just passed, hiding a plethora of inhumane conditions and forgotten carcasses behind it, and she _shivers_ with the reminder. No point in lying this time, not to Jackie. It's obvious that she's still shaken, much as she would like to deny it, and even if she _does_ , Jackie would still insist in that irritatingly (not-so-irritating) nice way of his.

V sighs, relents. "She's all yours. I'm beat as it is."

"Oh, almost forgot," Jackie pipes up as they enter the elevator. "Should get Wakako on the holo—tell her the job's done."

V nods and pulls her phone out from her pocket, scrolling to Wakako's number and throwing the display up onto her HUD. While she waits, Wakako's serpentine icon buzzing in the corner of her vision, V leans back and sets her weight against the wall, pulling trembling breaths into her lungs as images of the ice tub fill the darkness behind her eyelids, flashing with every blink.

She should be used to it by now, the violence, but the way those people went out...

"V?" Wakako's voice carries over the holo. "How did it go? Our client is alive and well?"

 _Alive's puttin' it lightly._ "'Course she's alive and well. That's what we agreed, isn't it?"

"Splendid. Your payment awaits you—ready to come and grab whenever you like, even right away. But I guess home is the only place you wish to be now." _Shit, fuck, that obvious?_ Before V can even try to get her head on straight, thinking that Wakako has picked up on her anxious expression, the fixer forges on. "The NCPD has surrounded Watson. The district is closed. If you are to make it past the cordon, you must move fast."

 _Oh._ "Thanks for the heads-up. Swing by to see you later."

The call comes to a close, and Jackie leads them back out of the elevator and through the parking lot. "Word's out the NCPD's gonna put Watson on lockdown. If I'm gonna sleep in my own bed tonight, we better put it in fifth."

"Leave it to me, _chica_. I'm drivin'."

With that said, V slides into the passenger seat gratefully. The Morro Rock Radio is playing at a low volume on the speakers, and she finally lets her head lean against the window, staring somberly into the rainy evening.

It's beautiful, she thinks, staring as a wet mist fills the street and colours itself with blinking neon signages. Pinks, yellows, blues, whites—splashes of different hues lighting up the city. Raindrops are pitter-pattering to the beat of a Samurai song, and the AC blows crisp, cold air into the vehicle, causing V to reach for her jacket slung over the back of the driver's seat and snuggle into it.

"Can't stop diggin' Night City," Jackie comments after a few moments of silence.

"City like any other. Just bigger."

"Nah, _chica_. Not just any other city." V turns to Jackie, blinking blearily as she waits for him to elaborate. "Morgan Blackhand. Andrew Weyland. Adam Smasher. Legends are _born_ here."

 _Legends_.

She thinks back to the story of Hustler and Velocity—a make-believe tale created by Padre for her and Hunter. Night after night, they spent thinking about becoming the best damn solos Night City has ever seen. They'd get all the jobs and all the money and all the girls. They'd buy their mom a nice mansion in North Oak and live off of authentic food for the rest of their lives. They'd know all the best fixers and order Johnny Silverhands at the Afterlife.

Ever since Hunter's death, though, V can't help but feel like she's disrespecting his memory. Hunter had wanted it the most. V had only wanted to be by his side... but now he's dead, and she's the one running jobs on the side, and she'd be lying if she said she wasn't feeling a little bit guilty. 

"Man, I'm starvin'. Let's grab a tight-bite. Whaddaya say?"

V offers Jackie a smile, grateful for the way he pulls her out of her thoughts without bringing them to light. "Jackie—they're lockin' down Watson, 'member?"

"Ah, shit. You're right—" Jackie strays to a stop, his eyes flicking to and from the rearview mirrors. "Is it just me, or..."

V watches as a van counterflows, overtakes them, and then suddenly the backdoors are opening, revealing a trio of—

"Scavs," Jackie curses. " _¡Hijo de puta!_ "

"Fuckin' drive, Jackie!"

V rolls the window down and grabs her revolver from the dashboard, leaning half of her body out of the car and aiming down the sights. Jackie jerks the car to the side to narrowly avoid an oncoming vehicle, and V's bullet pings uselessly against the van's door, the other hand flying out to stop her body from completely slipping out the window.

"Come on, V, shoot!"

"Can't! Keep her steady!" She empties two more rounds uselessly onto the road before refilling the cylinder, trying not to drop even a single bullet. She aims again, squinting against the rain, and fires two shots—two shots that sink into one of the Scavs, causing them to plummet off of the back and onto the road. Her car gives a mighty shake as it runs over the bleeding body.

"Hold tight, V!" V prepares herself and Jackie swerves past the traffic, past a red light—V's free hand is white-knuckling the doorframe, and she only lets go when Jackie rights the vehicle, focusing again on her revolver. " _¡Mierda, perdón!_ "

The van slows to match their pace, and V hoists herself up to sit on the open window, using the roof of the car to steady her aim and fire another shot into the open side of the Scav's van. Her sight moves from the passenger to the driver, and she fires the last round of her cylinder... straight into the Scav driver.

The van crashes into the side of a hotel, just as V nearly slips out—only for Jackie to grab a fistful of her shirt and _yank_ her back in.

_Jesus fucking Christ._

Hands still on her revolver, chest expanding and contracting rapidly to accommodate her desperate breaths, V keeps watch on the rear window, waiting to see if there are any others that might be tailing them. When they pass four more blocks with no activity, she finally sinks back into her seat, tossing her gun back onto the dashboard and sighing. _Loudly_.

"Agh. Scratched your baby up pretty bad," Jackie mutters breathlessly. "Sorry, V."

"It's okay—it can wait. Let's just focus on gettin' home." She wipes at her forehead with the back of her fist, frowning when it comes away damp. Whether from sweat or from the rain, she isn't quite sure. 

Her eyes stray back to the windshield, and she groans at the sight of the looming checkpoint, because, _fuck_ , there's also _that_ to have to deal with. V's hands come up to her face, rubbing furiously until she's seeing stars at the back of her eyelids, trying to ease her nerves from the edge they've been teetering on since leaving the Scav hideout.

"Damn," Jackie whistles. "They're pullin' out all the stops."

Their car finally rolls to a halt when an NCPD officer approaches their window.

"Watson's on lockdown till further notice. Necessary security measure," the officer states, hands on her hips.

"Officer, ma'am!" V tries not to startle with the sudden enthusiasm in Jackie's voice. "Damn are we ever lucky we ran into you."

"Really... What's it that makes me so special?"

"Ah, a heart o' gold? 'Cause only somebody with a heart o' gold can understand just how much I need to get back to my girl."

V hides an amused snort behind a cough.

"Your... girl?"

"Uh-huh," Jackie continues. "Gonna be worried sick if I don't show. I mean, I'm tryin' to be a stand-up guy. She giving me a chance, waiting."

"Look at 'im," V finally dives in, ducking her head to peer at the officer with the widest eyes she could muster. Fuck it. Fuck it all. She wants to fucking sleep, and if it means playing kiss-ass with some nobody badge, then so be it. "No model citizen, maybe, but he's a good kid."

Really, somebody should be giving her fuckin' actor of the decade, the way she beams up pleadingly at the officer to match Jackie's equally pathetic expression until the officer's waving at her colleagues.

"Let them through. But they're the last," the officer says, and V has to suppress a thrill of glee when the roads blocking the vehicle pull away. "Okay, on your way."

"You have a good evening, now, officer... ma'am," Jackie offers with a sweet smile that nearly sends V crying in laughter. She holds it in until they're far enough away, and then she's _bursting_ , brushing fake tears out of her eyes. "What?"

"She took a likin' to ya alright," V points out. "Ha! Was it the _ma'am_ or the puppy eyes?"

"The devotion I demonstrated grabbed her by the gut."

" _Right_."

"I'm loyal, stable in my affections..."

" _Mhm_."

"... and unassuming. You get it." Jackie flashes her the largest shit-eating grin he can, and she matches it in kind.

Well, at least, until they hear a commotion on the road.

"Check it out, V. Shit's goin' down."

They peer at the display through the windshield, watching as a group of gangers flag down a car and keep it idled by the barrel of their guns. No sooner have they done so, though, that the sirens fill the air, and a hoverbus drops down two MaxTac officers onto the pavement. After that, it's almost boring—the gangers get riddled with bullets, and Jackie pulls away from the scene, equally uninterested in watching them clean up the corpses.

"Welp, show's over. Poor bastards... but they had it comin'."

"MTac wiped the street with them. Wonder what made 'em try a holdup so close to a checkpoint, though?"

"Who knows. It's Night City. Never a question of _if_ someone's gonna break, it's only _when_ it'll happen," Jackie answers with a shrug, and V makes a quiet noise in agreement, the last wisps of laughter ebbing away into something tired and incredibly fucking sore. "Well. Made it. Almost at your place."

"What about you? Not likely to make it back to Heywood now."

"Chill, V. They'll let me through."

"Sure about that?"

"Oh yeah. I'll play nice Jackie again." Jackie finally pulls to a stop as they reach the parking level, turning to flash V a sympathetic look when he notices the way her eyes begin to droop lower and lower on her head. "Sweet dreams, then."

V, to her credit, still manages to clasps his hand in hers before bumping their closed fists together... although, she may have missed it by a finger, not that any of them bother to point it out.

"Tell Misty I said hi."

"I will. _Ahí luego_."

V steps out of the vehicle and watches idly as Jackie pulls away, disappearing down the parking ramp. She lingers for a few seconds longer afterwards, her hands slipping into the pockets of her trousers, acknowledging the beat bonelessness her body is suffering; it's always like this, she thinks, after a job dealing with Scavs or Wraiths. Something about the way they treat people like bags of meat. It rubs her the wrong way, makes her question to what extent people will lose their humanity in order to keep surviving in the hellhole that is Night City.

She wonders if she's any different from them. V's a hired gun, sure, but a corpse is a corpse at the end of the day. She's certainly not harvesting cyberware from poor unfortunate souls like the Scavs are, but she's ending lives all the same when it suits her or her fixer. It's funny, that. She tries not to think about it most days—it's Night City, after all, death is a damn near constant—but sometimes, _sometimes_...

V sighs and runs a trembling hand through her dyed hair. "This was s'posed to be you, Hunter, not me," she mutters under her breath, fingers sliding down to pull out the _thing_ dangling around her neck, tucked beneath her shirt: a single sniper round inscribed with his name—Hunter on one side, Amon on the other. "All I've got's a single brain cell to process this shit. This was gonna be your job, not mine."

She can still imagine the way he would laugh, the corners of his eyes crinkling.

" _It's all fine,_ " he would tell her. " _I'm the brains and you're the brawn. We'll take Night City by storm, you'll see._ "

He would if he could.

V tucks the necklace back into her shirt, hidden from prying eyes. Holstering her newly-acquired revolver, she finally makes her way towards the elevator, eager to collapse back onto her bed and call it a fucking day.


End file.
